Sacripant glanced back at the doorway. "Well, that was... odd. Who was the...?"
"He could have you killed with a word, you know," said Nathan flatly, as he walked down the darkened hall.
"What?" Sacripant scurried to the Lamplighter's side.
"Crookleg could have you killed with a word," repeated Nathan. "His people were all around us. A word, a nod, even a look from him, and you'd be dead."
The Erl blinked. "You're serious. Damn. Who... is he?"
"A Master of the Guild of Beggars and Thieves. He handles security here. For a hefty fee." Nathan shook his head. "Masters of the Guild do not like to be trifled with."
"So... why did you come here if it's so dangerous?" asked Sacripant.
"It isn't dangerous to me," said Nathan. "Nor to you, if you follow my instructions. The Beggars do not attack the Lamplighters. It's an arrangement we have. An old one. Old as the Great Tower and its bell."
Sacripant blinked. "How old is that, precisely?"
Nathan considered things. "I'm not really sure. The King of Leonais did not rule in Joyeuse then. That I know for certain." He paused before a curtain and pulled it back. Sacripant stared ahead into the darkness, and saw a crowd in a great chamber, eating, drinking, and... so far as he could tell... selling things
"The Thieves Market of Talossa," said Nathan. "Follow me. And don't talk to anyone unless I tell you to."
"What if I see the pickpockets who took my stuff?" asked the Erl.
"You especially don't talk to them," answered Nathan.